


The Complete Lack of Acknowledgement

by poselikeateam



Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Communication, Communication Failure, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emotionally Repressed, Fix-It of Sorts, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Being Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Little Shit, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Songfic, Swearing, he is just absolute shit at showing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poselikeateam/pseuds/poselikeateam
Summary: Jaskier is sick and tired of being taken for granted. He knows that he deserves better. Now he just needs to make sure that Geralt knows that too.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher - Songfics and Song-Inspired [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778191
Comments: 18
Kudos: 289
Collections: Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	The Complete Lack of Acknowledgement

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I couldn’t actually finish watching the Netflix series the whole way through because (a) I’m terrible at watching things and (b) Geralt is such a dick! Why is he such a dick! Be nice to your bard!!!
> 
> So I’m listening to this song (I’ve No More Fucks to Give) by Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq, and I’m like “this has such chaotic Jaskier energy” so I wrote this. It’s silly on purpose.
> 
> Also I turn 25 tomorrow! So that’s cool. I’m making myself the birthday cake from Fallout 3

Honestly, Jaskier is entirely tired of this shit by now. 

Look, he gets it. Geralt has been through way more shit than any one man ever should have had to deal with. He is a very emotionally damaged man, and Jaskier knew that. One could even say he signed up for this, except...

It’s not a fucking excuse.

He has been nothing but nice to Geralt for _years_. He’s been a little shit, sure, but he’s also done so _much_ for the man that he’d at least like the tiniest fucking acknowledgment, just one time. He has taken note of the things that are too much for Geralt’s enhanced senses and done what he could to mitigate it — using softer scents, talking just a bit more quietly, grounding him when they’re in a town and he’s about to hit that level of sensory overload where he just shuts down. 

Jaskier has also _vastly_ improved Geralt’s reputation. And yes, part of that was selfish — he has gained a certain amount of fame for his songs, after all. But people are treating Geralt less like a monster the longer they travel together, are calling him the White Wolf instead of _Butcher_. Fuck, people sometimes _thank him_ after a job, now. 

And he isn’t going to pretend that it’s all some altruistic thing on his part. Again, he is profiting off of this relationship too. But the fact of the matter is, he is putting in so much effort to their friendship and Geralt—

Geralt won’t even admit that they’re _friends_.

Jaskier is no stranger to being taken for granted. Frankly, if he had a gold coin for every time someone did, for every time he was used and for every wildly unbalanced relationship he’d been a part of — well, he wouldn’t have to work a day in his fucking life. It’s frustrating because he _knows_ he doesn’t deserve this, but he can’t… he doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t know how to bring it up in a way that it won’t just be brushed off because Geralt is practically allergic to any sort of conversation regarding feelings. 

He knows it isn’t exactly healthy, to follow someone around and do everything he can to cultivate any sort of relationship when that person won’t even give him the time of day. It’s just that… honestly he knows that Geralt does care, he’s just fucking terrible at it. Geralt keeps him safe, for one. If he really, really wanted to, Jaskier knows the witcher could shake him off in a heartbeat, but he never _has_. It’s like he’s pretending to keep Jaskier at arm’s length, but honestly the bard can’t figure out _why_. 

Geralt will make sure that he is warm when the weather is shit, make sure he eats enough, hunt for the both of them when he’s under no obligation to do so. Jaskier has fallen asleep and woken up to find that his boots had mysteriously been replaced by a sturdier pair more suited to traveling. He’s had threadbare blankets, cloaks, and bedrolls mysteriously replaced behind his back. Fuck, he hasn’t run out of ink in _years_ , even when he had been sure that he was going to. And for all the witcher loves to bitch and moan about his music, Jaskier has had enough spare lute strings seemingly materialise out of nowhere in the bottom of his pack for a fucking _lifetime_. He knows that Geralt is taking care of him but the old bastard simply refuses to acknowledge it in any way, shape, or form. 

So, he knows that Geralt _does_ care about him, does value their friendship in some capacity. Why the fuck else would Geralt consistently go out of his way to make sure Jaskier was _cared for_? He just — he can’t get Geralt to _talk about it_ and he is, emotionally speaking, at the end of his fucking rope.

Geralt is a good man. He’s got a kindness in him that Jaskier has rarely seen in anyone in his entire fucking life. But he has this whole, _witchers don’t feel_ thing. Which, by the way, is fucking stupid. Jaskier has practically seen Geralt refuse payment for no reason other than it feels like the right thing to do enough times to buy a fucking castle. (Yes, he might be exaggerating, and no, he is not going to take it back.) 

He gets it, sort of — witchers have such a bad reputation just because they’re different. If Geralt shows kindness it’s tantamount to showing _weakness_ which is dangerous as fuck, but… also exhaustingly stupid. Sure, he can put up a front around strangers, but why _Jaskier_ , of all people? Jaskier, who knows how fucking _soft_ his witcher really is?

Of course, he isn’t always soft. He has some of the roughest edges Jaskier has ever fucking encountered, and that is made _painfully_ evident the day that Geralt lashes out at him after a bad breakup. All those years of friendship and kindness feel fucking _wasted_ , the good memories curdling in his mind because apparently Geralt fucking _hates_ him. And no, sorry, it’s _not_ fair and he doesn’t _deserve_ this. After everything they’ve been through, everything he’s done, he is sick and fucking tired of being treated like this, of being tossed aside when he isn’t _useful_ , when it’s more convenient to blame him for everything than to be his fucking _friend_.

Yes, he knows that Geralt doesn’t actually mean it. He knows that the witcher is hurt and is lashing out because Jaskier is _there_ , because it’s _easy_. But that doesn’t make it _okay_. He’s done being treated like fucking garbage. 

So, he leaves. He fucks right off down that mountain. Geralt can have his one blessing, and Jaskier wonders how long it will take the witcher to realise it’s actually a curse. 

Things are rough for a while. Sometimes, and in some places, it feels as if the world is ending. Jaskier, for the first time in his adult life, is actually, truly _alone_ , and the middle of a war is perhaps the worst timing for it. He still travels, still performs, still does what he has always done — but, at the end of the night, there’s no one waiting for him, no one to banter with, no one to make him feel safe. 

And honestly, he had known since the moment he left that he would run into Geralt again. He has made up so many scenarios in his head. Would Geralt try to act the same? Would he apologise? Would he give a really fucking terrible apology? Would he double down on his unfair accusations? Would he just ignore Jaskier altogether? He doesn’t want to think about it but he does anyway and so it almost isn’t a surprise when he is getting ready for a performance and the tavern door swings open for a broad man with white hair and catlike yellow eyes. 

The witcher makes a beeline for him, which is, he’ll admit, slightly unexpected. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, sounding worried and relieved and sort of constipated.

“Witcher,” he responds coolly. He had decided early on that he would not make this easy on Geralt no matter what, and he is determined to keep this promise to himself. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” says the witcher, which is an honest to Gods surprise. 

“And it appears that you’ve found me. Bravo. Your tracking skills are truly unmatched,” is the dry answer he gives in response.

Geralt is clenching his jaw now, obviously trying to not be an absolute dickhead for once. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Mhm, and dwarves are short. Any more startling revelations? I’ve a set to perform.”

“As annoying as it is, I deserve this,” grumbles Geralt. That level of self-awareness is astounding, really, almost as much as the fact that he’s saying it aloud. Then he says, more direct and clear, “I wanted— I needed to apologise. To make sure you were safe.”

“And now that you’ve eased your conscience, you can get back to your _one blessing_ , right?” snarks the bard. 

“No,” Geralt answers immediately. “I want you to come with me.”

That’s new. Jaskier has always had the suspicion that Geralt really did want him along, but he never thought the witcher would actually admit it. “And if I don’t want to?”

Shrugging, obviously trying to look like it wouldn’t bother him when it clearly would for some unfathomable fucking reason, Geralt says, “I can’t force you. But it isn’t safe. Nilfgaard is looking for me, and they’ll come after you for information, whether you have it or not. I put you in danger. The least I can do is keep you safe.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Ever the martyr,” he says. “I’m the one who attached myself to your side like a fool, wasting my youth trying to get you to admit that you give a fuck.”

“I do,” Geralt insists. It’s admirable, really, that he isn’t taking Jaskier’s bait. Last time they’d seen each other this would have become a fight in a fucking second. Geralt, bless him, is actually trying. Unfortunately for the witcher, though, it just so happens that Jaskier is a petty bastard and wants to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“I care about you,” Geralt continues, capturing Jaskier’s attention in a way that the bard almost hates himself for, a little bit. “I tried to push you away because I thought it would keep you safe, and it was the wrong thing to do. Now I’m trying to make up for it.”

“What,” scoffs the bard, “you think that just because you’ve finally gained some level of self awareness, I’ll just jump up and run after you again like a stray pup? After everything you’ve said and done? After everything you _didn’t_?”

“No,” Geralt says. “I _hope_ that you’ll follow me for your safety and give me the chance to prove that I _am_ sorry. That you didn’t… waste your time.”

Jaskier swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. He doesn’t like this feeling of being caught off guard in conversation by _Geralt_ of all people. This level of sincerity is startling, and alarming, and _weird_. Not for the first time, Jaskier curses his own heart, and his clearly unfortunate taste in men. 

“You hurt me,” he says, more quietly than he’d intended.

“I know.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Jaskier says, “We’ll talk after my set. If you can deal with my _filling-less pie_ , of course.” 

He doesn’t give Geralt a chance to respond, turning on his heel and striding over to the middle of the room where he’s meant to be performing. He plays through a few crowd favourites, and then… he doesn’t know why, exactly, but he gets an idea.

See, he’s been feeling pretty hurt. Who could blame him? He’d fallen in love with an emotionally constipated moron, let said moron treat him poorly for ages because he saw the kindness the man tried to hide behind his harsh words and lack of social graces, and now that moron is here again. The worst part is that he is still angry but he knows himself. He knows for a fact that he is going to follow Geralt out of this stupid tavern, just like he always has. That doesn’t mean he’s going to be a pushover again, though. He’s going to make it very clear just how hurt he is, and demand better. And he is going to do it in the most Jaskier way he knows how. 

This should come as no surprise, but the best way to process his emotions is, and has always been, through poetry and song. So one night, a bit drunk and more than a bit petty, he’d sat down and written a song about how he was feeling. It was never meant to see the light of day, so to speak, never meant to be a part of his setlist, but… well, his petty side is less a side than it is his entire being, and he’ll admit to being a bit weak to its influence. 

“My friends,” he announces with a wide grin that he’s pretty sure Geralt will recognise as dangerous, “I have a bit of a surprise for you this evening. If you’d indulge, I’d like to play my newest song — you’ll be the first, perhaps the _only_ audience to ever hear it. A song about my dearest friend, and the time we’ve spent together.”

It’s probably only due to a dubious mix of liquor and fame that they cheer him on for it, and really, he shouldn’t be encouraged like this but he isn’t going to complain. Striking up a jaunty tune, he begins to play.

“ _I've tried, tried, tried, and I've tried even more  
I've cried, cried, cried, and I can't recall what for  
I've pressed, I've pushed, I've yelled, I've begged  
In hopes of some success  
But the inevitable fact is that it never will impress_“

He holds the last note, making eye contact with the White Wolf as he does. Usually he will flit through the crowd, engage with as many people as possible, but this song is specifically for Geralt, and he frankly couldn’t give a toss about the rest of the folks here. 

Years and years of pent-up frustration have gone into this song. All of the things he couldn’t bring himself to say to Geralt come _pouring_ out so easily now, and he knows that the witcher is listening for once. He is absolutely going to milk the opportunity for all it’s worth. 

“ _I've no more fucks to give  
My fucks have runneth dry  
I've tried to go fuck shopping  
But there's no fucks left to buy  
I've no more fucks to give  
Though more fucks I've tried to get  
I'm over my fuck budget  
And now I'm in fucking debt!”_

His song is being met with raucous laughter in all the right places, which is heartening. It’s good to know that he’s bringing some amount of joy to these people in these troubled times. It’s also good to see the look on Geralt’s face. 

“ _I strive, strive, strive to get everything done  
I've played by all the rules, but I've very rarely won  
I've smiled, I've charmed, I've wooed and laughed  
Alas to no avail  
I've run 'round like a moron to unequivocally fail”_

He remembers vividly how he’d been feeling and what he’d been thinking about when he’d written that bit. He tried to be productive, helpful. He tried to figure out what Geralt wanted from him at every turn and do it to the best of his ability. Being friendly, cheerful, bright, trying to be the strong one of the two _emotionally_ where Geralt was the strong one _physically_ — all of it was for nothing, made him look like nothing more than a jester. 

Geralt needs to know that he’s fucked up. He needs to know that he can’t just come back, say he’s sorry, and everything will go back to normal. It’s the _bare minimum_. Jaskier metaphorically worked his fingers to the bone for Geralt’s friendship and now Geralt is simply going to have to do the same. This is what he tries to convey when he sings: 

“ _I've no more fucks left to give  
My fuck rations are depleted  
I've rallied my fuck army  
But it's been fucking defeated  
The effort has just not been worth the time or the expense  
I've exhausted all my energy for minimal recompense  
The distinct lack of acknowledgement has now begun to gall  
And I've come to realise that I don't give a fuck at all!”_

Really. He’s deserved at least a hundred fucking thank yous, by now, that he’s never gotten. He is tired of being taken for granted. _Do better_ , he screams in his head, making eye contact with his very uncomfortable witcher all the while.

_“I've no more fucks to give  
My fucks have flown away  
My fucks are now so fucked up  
They've refused to fucking stay  
I've no more fucks to give  
My fucks have gone insane  
They've come back round and passed me  
While they're fucking off again_

_I've no more fucks to give  
My fucks have all dissolved  
I've planned many projects  
But my fucks won't be involved  
I've no more fucks to give  
My fucks have all been spent  
They've fucked off from the building  
And I don't know where they've went_”

He knows that he doesn’t _need_ to drive the point home quite this much, but, well… he _had_ been drunk when he’d written the song, and he isn’t going to only perform _part_ of it. Also, he cannot stress this enough, he is a petty little shit and he is not sorry for it. So he finishes with a grand crescendo: 

“ _I've no more fucks to give  
I've no more fucks to give  
I've no more fucks  
I've no more fucks  
I've no more fucks to give!”_

Honestly, he didn’t expect the raucous cheers and applause he gets when he finishes the song, but it is most certainly welcome. He knows that if he’d played this song twenty years ago, he’d have been booed out of the tavern in a minute or less. Those had been different times, though. People are tense, stressed. Any small amount of entertainment is a precious gift, and he has delivered it in _spades_. 

“Thank you, thank you!” he says, bowing and grinning, flushed with the high of playing for an appreciative crowd. “Unfortunately, I must now take my leave of you, but it has truly been a pleasure!”

He collects his coin from a very amused bartender and makes his way over to a very unamused witcher. 

“Well?” he says cheerily. He knows that Geralt sees right through his bubbly mood, but the witcher chooses to say nothing about it. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Geralt opens his mouth, pauses, appears to think better of it, and closes it again. For once, _he_ is the one following _Jaskier_ out of the tavern. 

They walk on in a silence that is somehow at once companionable and uncomfortable before, in yet another shocking twist of events, Geralt is the one to speak. “I’m… an idiot.”

“There you go with those obvious statements,” Jaskier teases, though he is genuinely curious as to what brought this on. “In what regard? I’m afraid I’ll need specifics for something with such a broad application.”

“I didn’t think,” Geralt answers as if that makes any sort of sense without context. Then, thankfully, he adds that context. Apparently he only needed time to figure out what, exactly, he was going to say. “I’m not good at saying how I feel about things. I didn’t… I thought I was showing that I appreciated you. I didn’t know I had to say it. I should have.”

Jaskier stops walking, then, because _what the fuck_. “You treated me like shit,” he says.

“I was an asshole,” Geralt surprisingly agrees. “I tried to… take care of you. Show that I appreciated you, and that I cared. But I didn’t… I don’t know if I’ve ever even thanked you. And that was wrong.”

“Yes, it was,” Jaskier answers slowly, after a lengthy pause. “You’ve… thought a lot about this, it seems.”

“I have,” he confirms with a nod. “Since you left. Since I drove you away.”

The quiet that settles between them is heavy with all of the things still unsaid. Finally, Jaskier says, “I won’t just forgive you.”

“I know.”

“You’ll have to earn it,” he warns.

“I plan to.”

“And…” Jaskier swallows. “I want— I don’t want things to go back to how they were.”

“They won’t.”

Silence again, and then, “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“I… This is an awfully tender moment,” he begins carefully.

“Mhm.”

“I may be reading it wrong, but—”

Geralt kisses him. It’s a soft press of lips to his cheek, nothing more, but it makes Jaskier’s heart race all the same. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things,” says the witcher.

“This still doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Jaskier insists, even as he tentatively takes Geralt’s hand in his.

The witcher moves his hand from Jaskier’s grasp, and he has half a second to be disappointed before Geralt laces their fingers together instead. 

“I know,” he says again. “I told you, I plan to earn it. To put in the effort you deserve.”

Times are tough, and a lot of the time, in a lot of places, it feels as though the world is ending. But in this time, in this place, between these two men, it feels as though a whole new world is just beginning.


End file.
